


He Should've Just Stayed Dead

by Sei_K



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Zombie Apocalyse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 05:39:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16759024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sei_K/pseuds/Sei_K
Summary: Brock survived a building falling on him, only to wake up to a completely different kind of Hell.





	He Should've Just Stayed Dead

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU set after "Captain America: The Winter Soldier." Brock Rumlow was able to survive his wounds the same way Paul Coulson survived his. Of course, not long after he has mostly recovered from a building falling on him, a zombie apocalypse hits.
> 
> This was originally a group RP post that I wanted to get off the ground, but due to extenuating circumstances, was not able to. Enjoy?

It all happened so fast.  
  
Something whizzed by him, leaving behind a noticeable sting. "THE F*CK?!" Firing off a shot, the black-clad male diverted his attention from the collapsing body several feet away to his arm. Brown hues quickly landed on the deltoid region, where his sleeve had been noticeably ripped and quickly dampening with blood. Grounding his teeth, Brock turned to the figure behind him. "CHRIST! WATCH WHERE THE F*CK YOU'RE SHOOTING!" The figure, trembling as if he were having a massive seizure standing up, attempted to stutter an apology. "S-s-sor-sorry.. I-I-I've... n-nev-never... sh-shot be--"  
  
"Then you better f*ckin' learn," he interrupted, before his peripheral caught movement to his right. Whipping his arm around 180 degrees, he aimed his CZ-100 between the pupil-less eyes of a horrifyingly ash gray male and pulled the trigger, just as the male's hands grabbed his shoulders and lunged forward.  
  
Brock released the breathe of air he didn't even know he was holding as the body flew back and landed on its back, where a pool of its own blood was already beginning to form.  
  
That was far too close for comfort.  
  
"And you better hope that bullet didn't go through a f***in' walking corpse, or you're the first person I'm rippin' apart," he quickly threw behind him, as he stalked through the ocean of blood, gore, bodies, and burning and totaled cars that littered the road. Scanning the area, a gloved hand raised and touched the black object resting along the cartilage of his right ear. "Rollins; ya there?" Nothing but silence answered him; he felt his stomach drop. "Rollins!"  
  
"Present."  
  
Brock exhaled, clearly glad to hear that his second in command hadn't join the army of rotting flesh. "Gather the others and meet at the bank," he ordered, before returning his right hand to the barrel of his semi-automatic handgun. Rollins simply replied with, "Roger." before silence greeted his eardrums once more.  
  
He didn't like this; he didn't like any of this.  
There was no warning. No intel. No info. Nothing.  
It all just happened.  
  
And he didn't like it one f*cking bit.  
  
Continuing down the street, and still being followed by the random guy who had never fired a gun in his life and, when he did, ended up nearly shooting him, Rumlow closely scanned and cautiously crossed every single alley and doorway he passed, all the while trying to figure out what the hell was going on and who was behind the apocalypse he'd been thrusted into. Did some broken off fraction of HYDRA do this? Or SHIELD? Was all of this caused by aliens from some faraway galaxy? Or maybe it was the Krees getting vengeance for SHIELD's experimentation on one of its kind. Was this a terrorist attack from secret criminal organization acting under the radar? Whatever the reason, he wasn't pleased.  
  
A loud bang, followed by a blood curdling scream, and ANOTHER annoying stinging sensation broke Brock's train of thought. His shoulder was on fire; the retard shot at him again! Extremely thin on patience, Rumlow hissed and threw out a string of curses. "That's it." He turned towards the straggler; "I'm feedin' ya to these mother f*ck-" Widening his eyes, Brock shifted 90 degrees back, narrowly missing the scantily clothed blond that charged passed him.  
Nex  
God, he was going to be so pissed if the idiot shot through a zombie and hit him in the process.  
  
More furious and irritated than terrified, Rumlow muttered a few more indecencies before fully extending his right arm and locking his elbow. Turning his head towards the woman --if you could even call her that anymore-- he aimed and shot two bullets --both of which easily met their target. His cold hues watched as blood and brain matter exploded from the back of the blond's skull before she, too, fell backwards in a tangled hep. His left hand reached for the second CZ-100 strapped to his thigh and aimed at the two growling males to the left of him. Exhaling an aggravated sigh, he turned his head and eyed the, now deceased, businessman who couldn't shoot for sh*t and the two undead that had just finished feasting from him and was beginning to get up, their lifeless eyes already dead set on him.  
  
What the hell had he been thinking, going out.

He should have continued playing dead and stayed underground.


End file.
